She had awaited the burning of her Mark from the moment the corpses hit the cold earth, out there in the clearing. But it took Voldemort nearly three hours to react to the disappearance of his Death Eaters.
Hermione had dispatched a letter to Lucius as soon as she had reached the safety of her Head Girl's room, making sure that no one could accuse her of keeping silent. She also knew that Lucius would most likely spend the afternoon in the throne room, waiting for news and discussing plans with the Dark Lord, so that there was only a small chance the letter would reach him in time.
With a bit of luck, Theodore's death would not be in vain, though in quite the opposite direction of Theodore's own wishes.
When a burning pain finally informed her that she was wanted, she tapped her print of John Waterhouse's Circe in a pattern that would send a message to Severus, informing him that she was off, grabbed her invisibility cloak, flooed to her private room near McGonagall's office and was out of the castle and grounds in less than ten minutes.
Her walk through the gloom of Voldemort's castle was spent with occluding exercises. Once more, she went through the sequence of events they had staged earlier this evening, and found them sufficient to convince even the notoriously paranoid Dark Lord.
While Harry, Ron and the others had entered the castle through the front, she had rushed across the ground to where the secret passage allowed her admission. She had managed it to the main entrance in time to see the corpses floating in and to throw a hysterical fit. By the time the other students had pulled themselves together enough to question what had happened, Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny had been safely tucked away into the office of Dumbledore, and at dinner they had been able to rejoin the other students, their memories protected in every possible way.
Now, she had only her own memories to worry about, and to protect from his dark grip.
She fell to her knees the moment she entered the throne room and half robbed, half crawled the long way to her Master's feet.
„I have news, My Lord," She announced when it became clear that he wouldn't speak or punish her immediately. „Today, four Death Eaters and Theodore Nott junior attacked Potter and his friends outside the wards, in the Forbidden Forest. They were defeated when Remus Lupin came to their rescue in the last moment. He killed every one of them, using burning curses on three and attacking the other two physically with a knife.
„I didn't find out before hand because Potter had left the grounds secretly with Weasley, hoping to end the quarrel between them. But I did get a good look at the corpses by pretending to be out of my mind with worry. Potter told me everything shortly afterwards."
„Why didn't you inform me the moment you found out, mudblood?" The snake-like voice asked silkily and Hermione couldn't prevent a shiver from running down her spine. Not that she wanted to, really, it always paid off to show the Dark Lord how much you feared him. He liked awe, and he lived on fear.
„The Inner Circle in his wisdom didn't see it fit to grant me the privilege of self controlled apparitione, My Lord," She stated, her voice trembling with worry and respect. „I came as soon as you called me. I did, however, send a letter to Master Malfoy, informing him in detail of the occurrences. I apologize that it didn't reach you in time, My Lord."
„Is this true, Lucius," Voldemort inquired, the icy sensation of his stare vanishing from her body. „Did the mudblood inform you?"
„I spent the whole evening in your vicinity, My Lord," Malfoy answered, stepping towards them with a fluent motion. „As you know, no owl can reach us here, so I wouldn't have been able to receive her letter even if she sent one."
Still prostrated on the ground, Hermione felt grimly satisfied. A stupid answer, in more than one point. Lecturing the Dark Lord about obvious things, admitting to a mistake and questioning another servant that had most likely done better than he – the Dark Lord liked none of those, and he hated it when Malfoy got too cocky. That would mean Cruciatus, if she wasn't completely wrong.
Voldemort didn't grace Lucius with an answer, instead he turned again and beckoned another member of the circle forward.
"Go to Lucius rooms and check for an owl or letter that might be waiting there. Make haste," He ordered the cloaked and masked man, and a soft whisper rose among the group. To send another man into Lucius' quarters was an open declaration of mistrust.
But when the Dark Lord spoke again, all sounds ceased immediately.
"Look up to me," His voice caressed her, like a snake slithering along her every limb and into her heart to squeeze it until it gave up the fight.
She obeyed. There was nothing else to do. And as her brown eye met the red ones of the monster, she felt some part of him slip into her mind, slithering along her thoughts and memories.
She gave him what he wanted. He seemed satisfied. And when the Death Eater he had sent out to fetch her letter returned, parchment in hand, he smiled at her. His pleasure made her feel sick, and she suddenly felt a terrible urge to wash herself clean of this smile, to rub herself raw until no trace of that snake remained on her.
"Hermione," He whispered, and she shuddered. "Dear, sweet, Hermione. You made me proud tonight."
He stretched out his hand and she crawled forward, took it and kissed the slimy skin reverently.
"Take a look at this, friends," He then announced, his voice echoing in the huge chamber. "Even a mudblood can do a better job than you, my infamous Death Eaters. This will have consequences."
He smiled down at Hermione, who was still holding onto his hand like a lifeline. "We hereby grant you, Hermione Granger, the right to appear in Our presence whenever you deem it necessary. We grant you the right to apparate into Our fortress at will. We grant you the right to occupy a chamber in Our fortress and to send Us messages directly, not via other members of the Inner Circle. We also grant you the right to wear a mask during the Circle meetings."
Hermione trembled as his dark, tainted magic washed over her, leaving in her the ability and knowledge he had given to her.
"I thank you, my Lord," She whispered with a broken voice. "I know this honour is unheard of, and my only hope is that I will prove myself worthy of it!" She hesitated, her eyes darting across Voldemort's face before hastily concentrating on the ground again. "May I be so bold, my Lord, to request another generous gift from you during this night full of joy?"
She heard angry hissing behind her back, felt furious eyes resting on her bent back. The Inner Circle wasn't happy with her swift ascension among their ranks. She would pay for this, later. Not tonight, for tonight she was the Dark Lord's pet, and no one would dare hurt her. Time to play her cards to best advantage.
"A bold request indeed, my little mudblood," Voldemort answered, curiosity laced with amusement. "What is your wish?"
"I hope for the honour of a private word with you, my Lord."
A week ago, she would have been punished for this move beyond pain, and for a moment, she was sure to feel the Cruciatus rolling over her body. But it seemed that finally her strategy had worked out. Instead of cursing her, the Dark Lord chuckled in amusement.
"Granted," He agreed, and then, turning to his Death Eaters. "Out with you! The little mudblood wants to whisper her delicate secrets into my ears."
As the clicks of booted feet on cold stone echoed away. Hermione shuddered at the thought of how she would pay for this. She was glad if she survived the Purebloods' wrath.
"We are alone, pet," The Dark Lord told her, and the slithering, oily quality of his voice turned the words into an obscenity. "What do you wish to tell me that should remain hidden from the ears of my truest servants?"
"I…" She started, as if not sure how to phrase what she wanted to say. "That I fear not all of them are entirely true to you, my Lord…"
The power of his mind hit her with the strength of a storm, and she bent and trembled under his will like a sheet of corn, fixing all her mind on the images she had spun for him, fixing all her will on keeping secret what he mustn't see, while she let her eyes glaze over and her mind appear like a clouded, weak and girlish thing, not the polished steel of discipline she had turned it into.
Finally, the attack stopped and he retreated to the caves of his own mind. She knew that he believed her, at least partly, otherwise she would have been dead at his feet already. But still he wanted her to go on, to tell her story in her own words and spin her own conclusions. A slight lowering of his head informed her of it and she lowered her eyes again, delivering her story and trembling with fear and exhaustion.
"I found a secret passage this afternoon, my Lord," She told him, colouring her words with haste and the eagerness to please. "It ends in the staff room, and thus I was able to overhear a short conversation between Snape the traitor and McGonagall. They talked about the failed attack, and Snape said…" She hesitated, changing the haste into worry. "He said…"
"You may be plain with me, child. There are few things that can surprise me and you won't be punished for information."
"He said that their agreement with their new informants had worked excellently, and that Lupin would have never made it in time had they not be informed from inside…"
"I see," Voldemort's words were colder than snow and ice. "There is more, isn't there?"
"I have placed a listening spell on the corridor near Snape's quarters weeks ago, my Lord. He hasn't received any visitors, but he leaves the castle more often than he did before. I didn't dare follow him without orders from you, my Lord, but I saw him walk down towards Hogsmeade several times now…"
"So you think he is meeting there with this… informant, little mudblood?"
She nodded, worry and hesitation again stiffening her whole body. This was the crucial moment, the time when he would either punish her for overstepping the limits, or raising her to new heights with a mission, a task that would induce fear even among the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle…
"What do you wish to do about this then, Hermione?"
"I would like to follow the traitor down to Hogsmeade, my Lord," She whispered. "To find out who it is that betrays you and to bring his name to you, for the glory of your kingdom and the downfall of our enemies."
Long was his silence, long and cold, and she had nearly given up hope when something touched her head. The coldness that seeped through her hair to her skin told her that it was his hand, the serpent like claw of the Dark Lord, resting on her like the proud hand of a father.
"Then you should fulfill your wishes, my child. Go, find those in our midst that are not worthy. Make me proud."
She shivered.
Only when she had left the throne room an hour later, surprisingly unscathed as the Dark Lord had demonstrated his satisfaction with her openly, did she allow herself to relax a little. But not for long, and not entirely, for she would not be safe until she had reached Severus' chambers, and her work for tonight wasn't finished yet.
Hermione had yet another prey to hunt down, and she met him in the room cleared for apparition. They were alone.
"MacNair," She purred. "It must be more than a coincidence that we meet here."
Indeed it was, for she had timed her exit carefully to meet him here. But MacNair didn't need to know that.
"Granger," He answered. "Risen in the Dark Lord's favour, it seems."
She shrugged. "Some rise, some fall," She commented, then met his eyes again and slowly, sensually, licked her lips. "But you know that it has nothing to do with real worth, MacNair. I must say that I was… impressed… by your inventiveness over the last weeks."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," He answered, face blank.
"You don't?" She shrugged again. "I'm surprised. That Hufflepuff boy you blackmailed, the assault on Potter, Fudge, and now your close friend Atricus, working together with Nott junior… you have wormed your way into the castle, MacNair, like a true Slytherin. I am… intrigued."
"So what," He answered, crossing his arms before his body defensively, but his eyes were glued on her body and face. She moved forward so that he would have a good view of her breasts and slowly ran a finger down the curve of her belly and hip.
"Lucius has become lazy, and decadent," She said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It may be that I am searching for a new partner. Someone with greater… determination and vigour. Someone to… satisfy all my needs…"
She pursed her lips and pouted, turning half away from him and playing with her hair. The fool didn't even notice how she was manipulating him. "But if you're not interested…"
"Maybe I am," He answered, too quickly, with a voice rough from desire and excitement.
She smiled at him, her mouth a dark, wet cave that opened tantalizingly slow.
""I like bold men, MacNair. Strong men. Men who do not hesitate to take what they want."
She took a step closer towards him and saw a shiny layer of sweat building on his forehead.
"Meet me tomorrow night at the place where we had our last… bodily confrontation," She licked her lips again and focused her eyes on his crotch.
"But, Lucius…"
"Are you afraid to take what you want, MacNair?" She asked and stepped even closer, until her hip contacted with his. "Or do you not want me?"
He gulped, unable to answer, but she didn't need him to voice the words.
"Tomorrow," She whispered. "Nine o'clock. I will be waiting for you, MacNair. Don't disappoint me…"
And with that, she apparated back to Hogwarts, leaving behind a MacNair that was torn between desire and fear.
He would come. She was very sure of that.
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"It was frightening," Harry told Draco the next afternoon as they met for one of their regular lessons. "One moment she was just Hermione, the next she looked like a professional killer. She slaughtered them, Draco. As if they were meat. Oh, damn it…"
The book he had been carrying around the room on his head had finally given up its fight against gravity and toppled to the ground.
Harry felt very tempted to give it a good, hard kick, but when he saw Draco's mocking expression, one eyebrow raised, awaiting the explosion, he reigned in his temper, and, without a word, took up the book again.
"I remember when I first saw my father that way," Draco said, his voice taking on the bitter edge it always sported when he talked about his parents. "I was seven. We had visited Knockturn Alley that afternoon, to meet one of his contacts. We had reached an abandoned alley, when suddenly he whirled around, wand in hand, and threw the Killing Curse at a woman who was walking behind us. She died on the spot."
Draco shuddered, his eyes fixed on a distant time. "He was so cold about it. He didn't seem to care one bit, and when I cried, he was very angry with me. Today I wonder why I went on admiring and adoring him like I did. It seems so very clear in retrospection that he was a heartless bastard."
"That's a parent thing, I guess," Harry answered, turned his head too fast and had to grab the falling book. At least it didn't hit the ground this time. "I couldn't imagine my parents anything but perfect, either. It was a rather nasty shock when I found out they were quite the opposite. At least my father was."
He shrugged the thought away. "Anyway, Hermione wasn't completely heartless, at least not after the others were gone."
He proceeded to tell Draco everything about the scene he had witnessed afterwards, including, only shortly hesitating, what had happened after Snape had left them.
For a moment, he wondered why he trusted Draco with any of this. He wouldn't have told it to Ron, not even during their best times of friendship, or to anybody else in Hogwarts. Mainly because he was a Slytherin, Harry decided then, and as such inclined to understand his Head of House better by definition than anybody else could ever hope to. And because he was Hermione's friend.
It had nothing to do with the bond that had formed between them over the last weeks, or the fact that he sought out Draco's opinion and thoughts more often than he had ever done with anybody else, safe Hermione perhaps. He wasn't friend with a Slytherin.
"Severus and Hermione… That doesn't surprise me," Draco answered after a moment of silence. "Not really. I've seen how they behave around each other in private a few times, and there was always such…"
"Tenderness," Harry added, half in thoughts. "And intimacy. And care."
He thought of how Hermione had sent him forwards to rejoin the others while she set of in a different direction. When he had asked her what she was up to, she had simply grinned. "Ask Severus," She had told him.
But asking him wasn't necessary. As soon as Harry had reached the others, Neville, Luna and Ginny huddled together in a little group of misery while the Professors guarded the corpses and conversed in hushed tones, Snape had descended on them, presenting them with a simple yet believable explanation for the events that mentioned nothing of Hermione, the Order or apparition jewels of any kind.
They had followed Ron (Hermione being somewhere else entirely), and somehow – they weren't sure how – Remus had found out and headed after them, alerting the rest of the teachers. He had killed the Death Eaters and waited at the edge of the wards for the other Professors to arrive.
Nice and simple. Simple enough, Snape had said, for even them to stick to it, and he had had them repeat the story, every single one of them, adding in a gentle voice that he would rip their tongues out and use them as potions ingredients if they didn't stick to this exactly. Harry had seen Neville go deadly pale, and even he himself had believed the Spymaster for a moment.
Then, they had entered through the grand entrance door, and Hermione had stormed towards them, nearly collapsing him in her eagerness to embrace him. She had cried, and babbled, and admonished, and cried some more, and Snape had hissed at her what an infantile behaviour she was showing, and she had tried to put herself together but had failed miserably, and Snape had uttered some terribly stinging remark about how books really couldn't teach you the important things in life.
Harry knew that he would have been angry, or irritated before, but not now. Not after he had seen them together like that. Now he knew that Snape was just staging a show to keep her safe, an elaborated tale of disgust and hate he wove around her to secure her from as much danger as possible.
Every hateful word, every reaction he produced in her was just proof of how much he cared for her. Demonstrated in the only way he could, before so many people. It was an impressive show, and Harry found that it calmed him to know how much strength Snape was willing to pour into her belittlement.
Neville, Luna and Ginny had stood by, very wide eyed, and had watched a Hermione that was so completely changed they couldn't understand it. Only the memory of Snape's velvety words kept them silent, Harry could see it in their faces.
And then Dumbledore's office, the Fidelius and the triggered Obliviate, and a hasty inclusion of the three into the Outer Circle of the Order, forcing them to remain quiet about all this by raising them to unexpected heights.
Simple and ingenious. He would never have imagined it.
Sometimes he wondered if all this interaction with Slytherins would be driving him mad soon. His brain felt like an intricate knot of meanings, hidden meanings and meanings below that. How could anyone consider so many perspectives and angles at the same time and remain sane? He was glad he was a Gryffindor.
"Yes, that's the right description, I guess," Draco agreed, not knowing about the direction Harry's thoughts had taken. "There was always such tenderness between them that I wondered… At first I thought it would disturb me, but in a way, it seems only logical, doesn't it?"
"The two brightest minds of Hogwarts joined together, you mean?" Harry grinned. "I must admit that two months ago I would have retched at the thought. It is hard to believe even now."
"Especially when you think of how he treats her in class."
"That's nothing compared to how he treats her during Order meetings," Harry answered, amusing himself with the memory for a moment. "Mrs Weasley has given him three tongue lashings already for reducing the "poor girl" to tears."
Draco laughed, "Imagine Hermione crying about something like this. She's just like a Slytherin in that respect." There was pride in his voice, and Harry suddenly realized that the itch of anger he would have felt a week ago about those words didn't come. "It takes a lot to make us crack. Those who don't learn it at school learn it quickly afterwards. They all harden up. Like my father."
"You know, that really makes me feel better, you comparing her to your father all the time," Harry complained. "I was frightened enough as it was. What if all that turns her into… I don't know."
"Nonsense," Draco said, deep conviction in his voice. "She will never turn into something like my father. There's a huge difference!"
"What difference," Harry asked, giving his best not to sound too pleading.
"Once she snapped out of it, she cried her heart out," Draco answered simply. "My father only re-sheathed his wand and told me that scum spying on wizards didn't deserve to live," Draco shrugged. "Then he smiled and invited me to a huge ice cream."
"He must be a terrifying man."
"That he is."
"How did Hermione… get to know him?"
Draco's eyes narrowed as he turned around to Harry. He could see the hesitation in the Gryffindor's eyes, battling with the craving wish to know.
"Do you really want to know this?" Draco asked, not sure whether he wanted to tell, but Harry nodded after a moment, and Draco sighed.
"We had been friends for several months, meeting in the Room of Requirement and talking, mainly. I had decided to inform Dumbledore about my father's letters earlier that month. One morning Hermione sent me an urgent letter, telling me to meet her as soon as possible. Once we were in safety, she explained to me that she had to get to know my father.
"I asked her why. And as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she answered: 'To become a Death Eater of course'."
Draco snorted. "You can imagine my reaction. It was loud, long drawn and slowly developed from laughter to outraged shouting. Anyway, she convinced me. You know how Hermione is when she really wants something."
Harry couldn't help but nod in commiseration.
"She began to tell me what I should write to my father – that she had started to talk to me and be friendlier to Slytherins in general, that I had found her in the restricted section, reading some book about forbidden curses, that she seemed less interested in lessons and would sometimes stare at Dumbledore with hateful eyes. My father had asked me to inform him about everything concerning the Golden Trio – you – from early on. So when I started telling him these things, he was intrigued. But he wouldn't have made any move. Despite all appearance, my father is a very careful man.
"Then there was the spring ball, housed in the manor of a Death Eater who had still kept his identity hidden and was thus safe from prosecution. I was to attend, as every year, and Hermione announced that she would accompany me."
Draco snorted again. "And accompany me she did. The transformation for the Yule Ball in Fourth Year was nothing against it, believe me. She was the best looking woman at the ball, a mudblood, and behaving as if the whole place belonged to her. People were shocked. They were disgusted. My father was fascinated."
He sighed, brushing invisible specks of dust from his school robes. "They vanished into a room and stayed there for hours. When she returned, she was obviously bruised, but she seemed to have gotten what she wanted. One month later, she was introduced to the Dark Lord. End of story."
Silence grew between them as Draco waited for Harry's reaction, his mind still toying with the events of last spring, and Harry struggled with something he knew not how to phrase. It had been occupying his mind for a week now, and still he wasn't sure how Draco would react. Careful planning would be necessary to convince him… Oh, what the heck, he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Plunge into cold water, then it will appear warm soon.
"I want you in the Order's Inner Circle, Draco," He simply said, and was rewarded with a priceless expression on the Slytherin's face. Draco looked so dumbfounded, so completely stupid as he choked out a strangled "What?" that Harry barely managed to suppress his smile.
But smiling would be interpreted as condescension, he knew that by now. "I want you in the Order," He repeated. "You have been handing in valuable information for more than a year now. Remus, Professor Dumbledore and Snape will support you. And I know that Hermione would be glad to have you there. I would be glad."
In the few seconds Harry had needed to say this, Draco's face had closed down completely, like a room whose curtains were suddenly drawn, to cut off all light and warmth.
„It wouldn't work, Potter," Draco replied lightly, and only because Harry had practiced reading the Slytherin over the last week did he notice bitterness in his voice. „They would never accept me. I'm a Slytherin, son of a Death Eater, model to every mudblood hater in this school. Even if you could use your influence to get me into the Order, they would never trust me enough to lower their guard around me. They would only believe I'd be trying to – how would Weasley put it? – ferret them out."
Harry chose to ignore the fact that he would have thought the same about Draco not a month ago. What a long way I have come in so short a time, he realized suddenly. It felt as if he had been half blind for many years, seeing only the obvious and ignoring that what he saw was nothing more but the thin surface of a chaotic entanglement of motives, intentions and relationships.
It had been Hermione who had brought him to reconsider his perspective, to find out about all this, Hermione and her peculiar relationship to Snape that seemed to become more mysterious every day. But it had been Draco who had helped him along the way. Now he could help Draco.
"They didn't trust Snape in the beginning, either. And I don't want to know how they will react when they find out the true identity of their beloved master spy," He shrugged again. "But that's not important. The point is: I want you in," He grinned. "And I'm not the Boy Who Lived for nothing, you know?"
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Leaning against the rough bark of a tree, Hermione heard the soft plop of apparition, but she didn't move an inch. She just kept her position, eyes downcast, one leg raised and resting against the tree, exposing bare skin and the skirt of her school uniform. She had braided her hair and put on just a wisp of make-up.
She knew how she looked: innocent, slightly helpless, and very young. It wouldn't do to remind MacNair of the wild huntress he had last met at this spot.
"MacNair," She called out after a moment, as if she hadn't noticed his arrival immediately. Her voice was shivering slightly, as if she was freezing, or afraid of the dark. "I was afraid you wouldn't come!"
She had overwhelmed him yesterday, in the chamber. But men like him didn't like it when the woman took control and kept it. She would have to appear soft and vulnerable tonight, leaving him the initiative.
He wanted his women passive, and passive she would be, this one evening, leaving the work to the dark figure in the shadows.
"Of course I came, sweetie," He answered, walking over towards her, and Hermione had to suppress a snort of amusement. Sweetie indeed. He sounded like some muggle on his first date.
She felt an arm snaking around her waist, pulling her close to him, and repressed the shudder it caused automatically. She was too used to this by now to let it disturb her.
"So where do you want us to go? Anything planned?" He whispered in her ear.
She turned towards him until their faces were mere inches from each other. Her warm, sweet breath tickled his mouth and nose. "I know a cave nearby," She whispered. "I thought we could be… undisturbed there."
"Sounds great," He agreed and his hand, which had rested on her hip, slowly moved lower. She leaned into his touch for a moment, then moved away again.
"Someone could see me," She whispered apologetically, making her voice a little breathless to show him she wanted his hands on her. "We can't risk it so near the castle."
"Lead the way, then," He agreed, withdrawing his hand from her butt, but keeping very near her. If he didn't stop fingering her soon, Severus would have to execute plan B.
She let MacNair do the talking while they walked. Mainly, he bragged about his plans to get Potter out of the castle and rise to the favour of the Dark Lord. She listened closely, siphoning of every useful piece of information and commenting on his bravery with impressed outcries and admiring sighs. The thickness of these pureblood men surprised her without end.
They had nearly reached the cave where Snuffles had been hiding so long ago, when suddenly, from the left, a beam of cold white light erupted into the darkness and hit her full range in the back.
She cried out in pain and collapsed, half drawing down MacNair with her and thus handicapping his wand arm. Plan B had started. Of course the light had produced nothing but a slight heat in her back, but she rolled on the ground as if she was in dire pain anyway, and MacNair seemed to buy it.
At least he had some Death Eater reflexes, she thought as he freed his arm hastily and stepped away from her, to prepare for battle. But they weren't good enough to notice that she had disposed of his second wand. She liked the chances even.
"Who's there?" MacNair shouted nervously, his voice rough and on the breaking point. Probably thinking that Malfoy had found them out and was now waiting in the shrubbery to administer the Killing Curse.
But the figure that stepped from the shadows into the moonlight was not the silver blond head of the Malfoy family.
Black hair framed a face which looked dark and brooding with its thin mouth, chiselled nose and black, burning eyes, a blackness mirrored by a whirling cloak so that it looked as if the body was surrounded by a halo of darkness, an aura of negative light.
Even Hermione, who had known about his presence all along, felt her heart flutter in her chest like a tiny bird. Only Severus could stage such a melodramatic entrance and without looking ridiculous. In fact, he looked quite the opposite, and Hermione had to tell herself sternly to concentrate on the task ahead.
"MacNair," Severus purred, much like she had purred in the apparition room last night, and again, Hermione's heart performed an excited little jump. "What a pleasant surprise. It seems you haven't changed your behaviour. Raping students it is tonight?"
"Snape," MacNair hissed, and part of his fear seemed to transform into hatred towards the man who had betrayed them all. But only a part, for he knew Severus to be a formidable opponent, and he was on his guard now. "Still sneaking in the shadows and spying on people? Seems you haven't changed much, either."
He seemed to stand completely still, only a tiny twitch of his left arm betraying him – he had let his wand slip from the holster on his arm to his hand and was now ready to attack without further warning.
But it seemed that Severus wouldn't give him the chance.
A flick of his wand, and a blue light shot towards MacNair, who blocked it with a hastily conjured shield. And then, the fight began.
It was clear to everyone on the little clearing, only seconds after the first moves had been made, that MacNair didn't have a chance against Severus. Against the Potions Master's lightning fast curses and hexes, MacNair appeared clumsy and slow, and while Severus fired spell after spell, his opponent seemed fixed on Crucios and Killing Curses, causing Severus to leap, jump and roll out of the way more than use shields. Not that he had a problem with that.
But Severus was holding back. Instead of the deadly, dangerous curses every Death Eater could use in his sleep, he was concentrating on stunners and disarmers, attacking MacNair from all sides unsettling him and offering him a false sense of confidence at the same time.
"What, Snape, are you down to first year curses? Did your new master put you on a short leash?" MacNair mocked, and Hermione was once more surprised by just how stupid MacNair was. For who would tease a panther playing with his prey?
"He isn't my new master, MacNair," Snape answered, dark amusement tainting his voice. "I have been secretly serving him for eighteen years now, and none of you would-be heroes ever noticed."
"NO," MacNair shouted, his wrath taking out the last portion of his brain that had warned him about overconfidence before, and rushed towards Severus.
He met a fist that drove the breath from his lungs, and while he was still trying to understand what had just happened to him, Severus, who had leapt behind him, delivered a kick to his shoulder that sent him to the ground.
With a movement so cocky that Hermione couldn't suppress a chuckle, Severus straightened his robes.
"Petrificul Totalus," He said lazily, and the body of the fallen Death Eater stiffened. "Now really, Hermione," He then continued while uprighting MacNair with quick gestures of his wand and cleaning his face and robes as efficiently. "I can't help but question your choice of companions."
Hermione pouted. She was enjoying all this enormously. "What else should I do when you are hiding in the bushes from me, Severus," She replied, and was rewarded with the shocked face of MacNair, the face of a man who suddenly, but too late, understood that he had been set up completely. And that this might very likely be his end.
"Well, if you put it that way I can see your point," Severus now said. "Perhaps we should start anew, then. More friendly perhaps. Are you ready?"
Hermione nodded and retreated to the shadows where Snape had hidden earlier the evening.
"Good view?" The Spymaster called over and she shouted and affirmative.
"Well then, MacNair, you are to help us then with a little thing. It won't take too long, I assure you. Imperio," He hissed, and MacNair's body slackened like a puppet on strings.
He walked back a few steps, until he had merged with the darkness. Then, he returned, an eager smile on his face.
"I'm glad you came, Snape," He said.
"What do you want?" The velvety voice of the Potions Master and traitor was expressionless, and MacNair squinted in the dark to get a glimpse of his face. Not that it would have told him anything, either.
"I have information valuable for your side," MacNair spoke hastily, intent on pleasing. "I am willing to turn them over, as well as myself. I know of the Dark Lord's movements and plans. Only get me away of the Death Eaters! Let me work for Dumbledore!"
"Is that all?" The cold question rang through the night.
"There are others like me, others who want out," MacNair babbled, his face white with fear. "I can give you their names, many names, if only…"
"That is not good enough, MacNair," Severus interrupted him. "I know you. You are weak. You will betray us again. There's only one turncoat among the ranks of Dumbledore, and that's me. Avada Kedavra."
Green light filled the air and MacNairs body, lifeless, toppled to the ground. Quickly, Severus crossed the distance between himself and the corpse and committed a thorough search of MacNair's body, pocketing his wand and a roll of parchment. Then he sent a last, critical glance around the clearing, touched his head as if saluting his victim, and apparated away.
It took Hermione less than five minutes to connect the images of MacNair's death with other snippets she and Severus had recorded earlier. When she was finished, she had a perfect memory of following him out of the castle, through Hogsmeade and to the forest until he met MacNair and killed him. Something worthy to present to a Master Occlument.
Then, she brushed her skirt clean of dirt and dried it with a spell. She approached MacNair, and, with a charm she had found in the restricted section, removed all traces of her scent and touch from his body and clothes. Only when she was absolutely sure that nothing of Hermione Granger remained on the corpse did she grab his arm and apparated away.
She had a gift for the Dark Lord and his Inner Circle, something that would hopefully unleash chaos among the higher ranks of the Death Eater.
Something that would increase her power greatly.
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A/N: There it is, I hope you liked it! I will work through all the questions and comments given in the reviews during the next days and post my answers in the "future" category of my forum. Hopefully, you will also find a preview to the next chapter there somewhere during the week. So keep checking! And review!